


Hope Against Hope

by CongratulationsBaby



Series: Australia's Prize Catch [7]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: Set a few days after 'Severance' in same A/U where Franky is a contestant of a reality TV show and Bridget is the Production Assistant assigned to her.Joan Ferguson comes up with a plan to add drama to the mansion, but Vera is reluctant. Meanwhile, Franky reassures Allie about Bea and, in doing so, reassures herself.
Relationships: Allie Novak/Bea Smith, Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Series: Australia's Prize Catch [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832278
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Hope Against Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> I've had the first part of this one written for weeks, but work and thesis stuff kept me busy sorry!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented on all of my one-shots so far, reading them makes me so happy and they all mean so much to me, so thank you! That being said, I hope you enjoy this installment. 
> 
> This one has some plot and there is no Bridget or Bea physically, but naturally it's all about the fridget, with some ballie thrown in, and my next one will switch and focus on Bridget (and I'll see how Bea can get in it). 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wentworth or any of the characters, you know, the usual 'don't sue me' content.

**Hope Against Hope**

“Vera?”

The deeper voice broke through the silence and made Vera turn around in her chair to the woman behind her. Dressed immaculately in a business suit with her hair tight and pristine in a perfectly formed bun, Joan Ferguson certainly cut a menacing figure. Today she was sat behind her usual large mahogany desk in the network offices, clicking precisely with her mouse, and Vera was reluctant to meet her eyes, knowing that she was about to be cut down. 

“Y-yes Joan?” a slight stutter from Vera, to which Joan lifted one eyebrow.

_She’s like a circling shark, looking for weakness._ The image was absurd yet suited her boss so well.

Joan chose to ignore the nervous response and instead glanced back at her computer screen.

“Why do we have two contestants locked away in their room for… three days now?”

Vera knew this question was coming ever since Bea’s Elimination. The redhead had left Allie Novak heartbroken, even Vera could see it, though the two contestants tried their hardest to hide their mutual pining. In response, Allie had spent the last three days refusing to come out of the bedroom. Franky Doyle was another matter entirely; one which Vera hadn’t quite decided whether to divulge to Joan. Suffice to say, since Miss Westfall’s departure, no-one had seen or heard from the usually loud-mouthed tattooed brunette. Both women had refused to leave their bedroom.

“I think Bea Smith’s departure has upset the contestants,” Vera explained as she stood up and moved so she was facing her boss, the desk between them, “Novak and Doyle were good friends with Smith. I suspect they’re upset.”

“Yes well,” Joan waved her hand dismissively, her expression disgruntled at the thought of the emotional surfeit going on behind the door, “this is a _TV show_. Viewers tune in for drama and entertainment, they do _not_ tune in to watch a door, or to view contestants sleeping, or eating, or _missing their friends_.”

“What do you suggest?” Vera asked mildly.

“Really, Vera, I thought I hired you for your initiative.”

“Well…” Vera replied, “we could play Novak off as having her heart broken by Smith leaving. We have enough footage to cobble together a romance that went under the radar.” _Likely because theirs was actually a romance that went under the radar,_ she thought.

Joan nodded, still staring at the white door on her computer screen. She wasn’t quite _impressed,_ but also hadn’t cut Vera down so the smaller brunette counted it as a win.

“And Doyle?”

Vera paused, and her silence caused Joan to turn both eyes to her like a hawk eyeing up prey. If there was the power to read people’s minds, Vera was pretty sure Joan had it. What did she tell her boss? _Oh Doyle fell in love with a Production Assistant, they were carrying on off-camera against the rules, so now she’s in her room sulking because I fired her lover._

Despite her desperate need to please Joan and prove herself worthy of managing production, Vera decided to allow Miss Westfall’s last request that Franky remain. She wasn’t quite as heartless as most thought really, despite what she did. Joan couldn’t know.

“We’ll suggest Kim has broken up with her and play it off as heartbreak, like with Novak. We’ll arrange a Hot Seat interview with Kim and we’ll emphasise the friendship between Doyle and Novak so viewers will think it’s two heartbroken friends comforting each other.”

Joan stared at her unwaveringly for a moment and Vera thought she was going to be caught out and made to spill everything, but slowly a smile appeared on the stern woman’s face. It was tight-lipped and could be described as the smallest quirk of her lips, but it was there, and Vera knew she had succeeded.

“Very well.”

Vera let out a shaky breath and nodded firmly, before turning around and moving back to her chair. She needed to call Miss Miles and Mr Fletcher immediately to collate footage.

“Oh, Vera?”

Joan’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she turned back to her severe-looking boss.

“I wondered why Miss Westfall hadn’t signed in today? Her shift started two hours ago and she’s usually so prompt.”

Right there, the gleam in Joan’s eyes told Vera that she knew something was up. She was playing with Vera, like a cat would play with a mouse.

“I…” Vera took a deep breath, composing a vague reply that would settle her curiosity, “I had to let Miss Westfall go.”

“Oh?”

_She scented blood._

“Miss Westfall had some _personal_ issues that meant she could no longer carry on in the production capacity.”

“I see.”

Joan made no move to question further and Vera in turn made no move to either give in or lie completely. It was a small and silent stand-off, both women watching each other for the smallest micro-expression.

Slowly, _ever_ so slowly, Joan’s gaze moved from Vera back to the computer screen, but the small tight-lipped smile remained, this time an ounce more genuine but no less sinister.

“You know, Vera,” Joan said, eyes on the camera shot of the white door, “I’ve just thought of a better story for the viewers.”

She shifted and pulled out her drawer, depositing a pack of wet wipes on her desk. With precision, Joan tugged out a wet wipe and cleansed her hands, before draping it over the mouse. She clicked off the camera footage.

“Yes,” she balled up the wet wipe, the gleam in her eye back, “this will certainly create drama.”

****

“Not again... no, don’t do that.”

Franky grimaced as she saw a tear spill down Allie’s cheek. They’d been in their shared room for three days now, only coming out to collect food and use the bathroom, and Allie had spent that time alternating between tears, despondency, and anger. Franky understood of course, she was feeling pretty shitty herself knowing that Bridget wasn’t going to waltz through the door, wrap her arms around her and console her, or kiss her senseless, or maybe trail her mouth down her body and-

“What if I never see her again?”

Franky rolled her eyes as she threw her book down, and scooted herself to the edge of her bed. Allie was sat on what was Bea’s bed, cradling a red knitted blanket which had been left for her by the red-headed woman before she left.

“Look,” Franky attempted gently, “Red was head over heels for you, yeah? She’s not the kinda gal that would just use you and get rid. You _will_ see her again.”

“She didn’t even give me her phone number,” Allie shook her head, wiping her face on the blanket, “how am I supposed to contact her after all this?”

Franky sighed. Her hand moved automatically to a pocket in her jeans and her fingers lightly traced the crumpled piece of paper inside.

_I’ll be waiting. I promise._

Bridget hadn’t left any contact details either. It hadn’t occurred to Franky that she had no instructions how to get in touch with the Production Assistant on the outside, but now that it had the brunette expected to feel a trace of insecurity or fear like Allie. Instead, she felt nothing but calm. As if she just _knew_ that they would see each other again, no matter what.

“Hope.”

The word left her mouth a breathy exhale, hanging in the room. Allie looked over, confused.

“Huh?”

“Hope,” Franky repeated, and she felt lighter somehow, a small smile appearing for the first time in days, “really that simple, Blondie. You gotta have hope that no matter what, Red’ll be there. When you were together, just talking or laughing or hanging out, did you ever look at her and just realise that this woman would move heaven and earth to make you happy? That she would risk _everything_ to help make your dreams come true?”

_Gidge nuked her own career so I could pursue my dream._

Before the show, the thought of love had scared Franky. Love was weakness, her mother taught her that. When she was a little girl, she loved her dad and that made her weak. That weakness enabled her mum to hit her, scream at her, and eventually burn her. When she was moved from foster home to foster home, the other kids picked up on that weakness and so she had to learn pretty quickly to be strong. She had to be able to punch, kick, spit, and fight back. Loving someone and letting them in always meant she was vulnerable and Franky Doyle never wanted to be burned again.

Until Bridget came along.

Bridget, who tanked her livelihood so Franky might win and get the education she always wanted. Bridget, who ‘lost’ her Hot Seat tape so Franky wouldn’t have to lay her past out for public entertainment. Bridget, who stood behind the cameras and smiled at her like Franky had hung the stars in the sky. She showed Franky that love wasn’t weakness, it was strength. With Bridget’s love, she wasn’t burned. She felt like she could walk through fire and not feel a thing. Bridget promised that no matter what, she’d be waiting for her and it gave Franky hope.

“Every time Bea looked at me,” Allie softly uttered, breaking the brunette from her reverie, “it was like I was the only one in the universe.”

“See?” Franky smiled reassuringly as she leant over and grabbed Allie’s hand, “she’ll be running at ya the minute you leave this place. Knowing Red, she’s probably tuning in every night to make sure she’s ready. She’ll be out there in the audience.”

Allie smiled then, and Franky knew that this was a breakthrough for the blonde.

“Now,” Franky continued, “if she _is_ tuning in every night, she isn’t getting a good view of your arse is she? I bet Fletch has been out there with the camera pointed at the door for the past three days. How do you expect to keep a girl if she can’t ogle you on live television, huh?”

Allie laughed as Franky winked at her.

“I don’t know,” the blonde replied, “I could ask you the same question! Miss Westfall is getting the same view.”

Bea had kept her word and not told anyone about Franky and Bridget, but when Franky had also holed herself up in solidarity with Allie (partly to lick her own emotional wounds, and partly to keep her promise that she’d look out for the blonde), she’d revealed her own story, confessing her love for Bridget, and the two had bonded through their shared misery and longing.

“Gidge got a good view of my arse on our last night that’ll see her through,” Franky waggled her eyebrows, “in _fact,_ she got a good view of both my arse _and_ the door when it was pressed up against it as she went down on me-”

“- okay okay, I get it!” Allie laughed and covered her ears, prompting Franky’s own burst of laughter.

“Are we good?” the tattooed brunette eventually asked, “D’you think we should leave this room now and make our women proud?”

“Hope,” Allie nodded and stood up, “I have hope that Bea will be there when I leave the mansion. Until then, we have to show everyone that we can win this.”

“That’s the spirit!” Franky also stood up, moving closer until she was standing in front of the blonde.

“For Bea and Bridget," Allie stated.

“For Red and Gidge," Franky retorted with a smile.

They both stepped forward and brought each other in to a warm embrace. Franky heard Allie sigh into her shoulder, along with a soft whisper:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Franky replied just as quietly, “I promised Red we’d look out for each other, and I just know they’re both going to be there... whenever we leave.”

****

“Chang.”

Vera acknowledged and nodded toward the Hot Seat as she double checked the camera. Kim wrung her hands nervously and moved toward the chair, sitting gingerly on the edge. She seemed reluctant to be here after her last attempt at bringing down Franky Doyle, and quite honestly Vera didn’t blame her.

She felt sick to her stomach as well at what they were about to do.

“You got the script?” she asked and Kim nodded, “you memorised it?”

Kim nodded again and she started to relax into the seat.

“Okay, we’ll begin in 5.”

“I...” Kim struggled for a second in forming a sentence, clearly disturbed by what she was about to do and seeking confirmation, “I do this and I’ll definitely not be eliminated, right?”

“Correct,” Vera couldn’t bring herself to soften her usually stern manner to reassure the girl. She wasn’t happy with the orders herself, and the way that Kim Chang had initially readily agreed didn’t sit right with her. She wasn’t an idiot, of course, she _knew_ how shows like this worked. Hell, she even gave the orders so she knew the half-baked romances and drama they usually pedaled. However, she could readily admit to herself that this latest ploy by Joan Ferguson for ratings made her uneasy. Maybe it was because she had come to respect Bridget Westfall as a colleague or maybe it was because she was starting to see Joan for the ratings shark that she really was.

Either way, as Vera hit ‘record’ on the camera and Kim Chang started to speak, she knew that the sick feeling in her stomach wouldn’t disappear unless she did something.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you to everyone still reading these one-shots, I really do appreciate you all and I love seeing kudos and comments! (I'm a bit behind on replying but I am catching up today, so thanks for your patience)
> 
> Constructive criticism etc. is also more than welcome, but most importantly I hope you have enjoyed it!
> 
> The next part will not nearly take as long (oops), and the contestants are only a few weeks away from the finale mwahahaha.
> 
> Again, any suggestions or prompts or anything you'd like to read, feel free to throw it at me :)


End file.
